


The Family Business

by Hikary



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Deal with a Shinigami, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, Family Bonding, Fix-It of Sorts, Heavy Angst, M/M, Maki is a tornado in the shape of a teddy bear, No plot just pain, Post-Canon, Resurrection, Ryuk sucks, Ryuzaki calling Mishima 'Ryou' and breaking my heart every single time, post-Light Up the New World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikary/pseuds/Hikary
Summary: In the aftermath of his first and last murder, a devastated Mishima is offered an unexpected deal to have Ryuzaki back.[Obviously, massive spoiler forDeath Note: Light Up the NEW World]
Relationships: Implied Matt/Mello - Relationship, Mishima Tsukuro & J (Death Note), Mishima Tsukuro & Maki Nikaidou, Mishima Tsukuru/Ryuzaki (Light Up the NEW World), implied Near/Stephen
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	The Family Business

**Author's Note:**

> I remember watching Death Note, in 2015, and thinking I would have never loved anything that much. It turns out I was half right and half wrong: there was more, but it was still Death Note.
> 
> Takes place right after the last scene of the movie, so big spoiler alert for the canonical plot twist. The only thing you really need to remember is that Mishima’s real name (‘Tsukuro Mishima’ is the name for the Kira Task Force, they all have fake names at this point) is ‘Ryo Nakagami’, because I use both names depending on the situation. 100% canon compliant + Mishima and Ryuzaki are already in a relationship – which takes place in the (very few) missing moments from the movie, so nothing has changed plot-wise.
> 
> There is absolutely nothing scientific about what happens in this fic. Mishima’s predicted lifespam is literally based on a google search (something like “average life expectancy for a Japanese policeman”), minus something because he’s still a Death Note character. If you want a breakdown of my shitty maths, see end notes.

**December 25th, 2016**

“ -but with every other beat I got left in my heart

you know I’d rather be damned with you.”

Mishima stopped halfway through the corridor and clenched his fists so tight he almost drew blood. _No_. His head was about to explode. _No no no_. He had always known the world was an unforgiving shithole - hell, he had started the whole mess _because_ the world was shit. _But this?_ That was a brand new level of fucking unfair. Going back into the cell, screaming and shouting how sorry he was, that wouldn’t have done any good. And then again, how could he have possibly faced N or J or anyone, when he could’t even face the twenty metres between himself and the front door?

« Well, well. This is unexpected, isn’t it? »

He raised his eyes to meet the Shinigami’s grin - _pure mockery_ , as only Ryuk could master. One of the guards shifted uncomfortably.

« Everything is fine. » Mishima said and _fuck¸_ that voice wasn’t _his_ anymore, he painfully realised, it belonged to L now. « It’s one of those... _monsters_. »

Ryuk feigned a hurt expression. Mishima thought he could have killed a god of death with his bare hands, right there, right now.

« What would you expect? » he spitted.

« _They_ are never like that. Never feel guilty, they don’t go further that being sorry - but only when they are dying. You, _oh_ , you’re so unlike the others. »

« _Am I?_ »

« You’re by far the most boring owner, Ryou-san. Look at yourself, you’re a little ball of regrets and shame. »

Mishima inhaled sharply, unable to reply.

 _Shame_.

That didn’t quite cover the disgusting ball of self-loathing and regrets stuck halfway down his throat. It was a miracle he could still breathe. _Scratch that_ , it was a curse.

« You are so ashamed you would trade all of your years for _his_ , wouldn’t you? »

Everything inside Mishima froze. He had convinced himself he had no right to mourn the dead, but it hadn’t made any step he took since Nanase died less painful. He had embraced suffering, rejoicing in that one proof he still deserved to be called a human being. _This_ , however, _what shall I make of this?_ He didn’t wonder how Ryuk knew that there was pain for the lives he had taken, and then there was _him_. Of course the bastard knew.

Mishima held Soichiro’s notebook close to his heart, and resumed walking. The Shinigami waited until he had reached the far end of the corridor, past the surveillance, and said the only thing a Shinigami could possibly say to a human in pain.

« Do you want to make a deal, Ryou-kun? »

« You think I am that stupid? »

« It doesn’t involve eyes or notebooks. »

« Not for the whole world. »

« _Not for you friends’ life?_ »

The human stared in disbelief.

« You mean my years for their lives? »

« Perhaps. »

« Yes. »

« You would die right no- »

« _Yes._ »

« See? » Ryuk whined « you’re no fun! »

« How does it work? » Mishima ignored him.

« Shinigami count using a different - how shall we call it? _Numeric system_. It’s loosely based on human heartbeats. In theory, we could help you _share_. »

« Share...? »

« Share your hearbeats with someone. Every other heartbeat. If you keep that person by your side all the time, your heartbeat will sound just normal. It’s not uncommon for humans to have very similar heart rates. Sure, it won’t be perfect, but just enough to trick Death. »

Mishima briefly considered asking when ‘Death’ came into the picture.

« You will last about half the years you were supposed to live, and so will the other person. A bit like spending money, isn’t it? You can save up and survive eighty years or waste it all before you’re forty. »

« Fine. Although I am fairly sure that wouldn’t be enough to bring back even half of my » he swallowed hard « _friends_. »

« Did I say _friends?_ Plural? Silly me. »

« You’re making me choose, aren’t you? »

« No. I am giving you no choice. This will only be fun with Ryuzaki around. It’s always been more fun _like that_. »

Mishima hesitated.

« And Nanase. » he pleaded.

« This is my only offer. »

« Why did you ask, then? As if I could refuse. »

« I enjoy seeing you helpless. You’re very irritating. » Ryuk moved closer. « So, just to be clear. You will live half of your predestinate pitiful, sorry existence that could end tomorrow, for all you know. »

The human tilted his head back, so he could look at the god in the eyes. He took a long, deliberate step towards him, shoulders straights, chin up, and gaze on fire.

« _Just to be clear_. » and it wasn’t he first time he spoke as L, but it was the first time he meant it « I _will_ find all of them, I _will_ hide them away forever. And then, I will find a way to kill you. »

Ryuk’s laugh was manical.

« Maybe I am wrong about you. Maybe you’ll get more interesting. »

« Deal? »

« There. » the Shinigami hinted at where Mishima had come from. « Go and check for yourself. Let’s hope forgiveness runs in the family. »

Mishima could barely hear the last remark over his own heartbeat while he ran back to the cell; either way, he couldn’t have cared less.

The door was slammed opened as Mishima rushed inside the cell, and threw himself next to Ryuzaki’s lifeless body. He almost cursed Ryuk’s name, when, suddenly, his heart clenched, as if struck by an invisible force. Pain exploded in his chest, spreading to his very last fiber, and he could’t breathe anymore. It felt like drowning. And then, someone was grabbing his arm.

* * *

Mishima sat still on the office chair, looking dead and feeling worse, eyes glued to the person in front of him. _Ryuzaki_. The dective, on the contrary, was restless, caught in a perpetual series of motions, like a ritual: step back, step forward, touching his hair, half a step back, a small kick on the desk – all while talking to the phone. Mishima suspected it was his way of processing all the information, if not of trying not do die of a heart attack twice on the same day. The person on the other side of the line must have asked something unsettling, because Ryuzaki suddenly stopped. He eyes Mishima carefully, and, once again, the former Kira was amazed to see not a single trace of hate, not ever reproach in his eyes.

« Listen, he- » his British accent was way stronger than Mishima had expected, but nonetheless he had been able to follow the conversation. « I don’t think he is. »

 _What,_ Mishima wondered, _what am I?_

 _Anything and nothing_. Not a person anymore, probably lacking a soul, and yet not evil enough to be as good as the other Kira. Even Ryuk had said so: he was boring.

« Just do as I ask. _Please_. »

And then, Mishima knew he was talking to J. It must have been her. That sounded like the kind of thing Ryuzaki would say to her anyway. The thought terrified him – he knew about his ‘family’, because Ryuzaki told him about them. Not their names, of course, but all those precious useless facts probably nobody else knew, because he was entrusted with them. _Fuck, I even know his real name, now_. He felt sick.

« She’s on it. We’ll be out soon. »

« Out?»

Mishima had spaced out completely, missing the rest of the phone call.

« Out of here..? »

« Out of Japan. Not the best place for us to hide, what do you think? »

 _I think you should seriously stop talking as if we were still a team or my heart will break and we’ll be dead again soon._

« J wasn’t happy about this, wasn’t she? »

« Well. » Ryuzaki scratched the top of his head, looking thoughtful for once, if not affectionate. « She might have yelled at me a little bit at first. »

« Of course. » Mishima had an epiphany « You called to tell her you were dying just a few hours ago. » he paused « Because you did call, right? »

Ryuzaki shrugged and yet made no effort to hide his discomfort.

« You didn’t call to say goodbye to your family. »

« We have authomatic email alerts. »

« You have email alerts for a relative’s death?! »

« You can customise them, if you like. Add a video. Kitten gifs. That stuff. »

« You can _customise_ them?! » Mishima sounded a bit hysterical at this point.

Ryuzaki didn’t reply. The silence, once their favourite battlefield to crack down massive piles of files or get through hours of footage, became uncomfortable, stained with painful questions neither of them dared to voice.

« She asked how do I know you’re not lying » Ryuzaki sighted heavily « about the fact we shouldn’t be separated. »

« You should tell her I’d rather be executed right now than spend a lifetime next to the person that will forever remind me of my crimes » Mishima spitted, eyes as far from Ryuzaki as he could manage.

Ryuzaki took a step closer.

« Do you mean that? »

If he focused, Mishima believed he could actually hear it: the missing beat, the very sound of death. And, as Ryuzaki took a second step toward him, he tried to imagine how it would feel to hear _his hearthbeat_ , too, and fill the void. That, however, required being way too close.

« I don’t. Of course I don’t. »

« Then, I beg you to stop talking as if this was the worst possible outcome of the Kira case. We both know it could be worse. »

« How? We could have both died? Is that it? » Mishima asked, genuinely confused.

« We could have both died, one of us thinking he’s a god who deserves to administrate justice by killing thousand of people. »

A sentence flashed though Mishima’s head, sounding like Chief Yagami’s voice. _I couldn’t save Light_ , he had said. No, they weren't his words, somebody else told him that, and he was repeating them to Mishima. _I couldn’t save Light_ , L had said to the boy's father. Yes, that was more like it.

« Well, it fucking hurts. »

There was something so soft in Ryuzaki’s expression that made him shudder a little, tempted to let go and lose himself in that small comfort.

« And this is why I am going to trust you. »

He didn’t fight as Ryuzaki encircled his shoulder with both arms, and pulled him close. He could finally hear it, now: the single heartbeat that was keeping both of them alive, together.

* * *

« _Fake documents_. »

Mishima held the passport as far as he could, as if he was scared of its proximity.

« Is that what’s troubling you? »

Ryuzaki made a little attempt at smirking. Mishima snorted, which could be considered the first emotional reaction since they had left the police headquarter. He almost looked straight into Ryuzaki’s face as he spoke.

« I just find it oddly appropriate, almost _symbolic._ »

Ryuzaki sighed as dramatically as he could.

* * *

**Winter, 2017**

“The trouble with letting people see you at your worst isn't that they'll remember;

it's that _you'll remember_.”

When they walk into Wammy's House and he sees J, there's _nothing_ there. That's what terrifies him at first, the utter _nothingness_ in the depth of her eyes, like a void, an absence waiting to be filled; and on top of that, what really does strike _Ryou_ \- the name still resonates in the back of his head, a sound so undeserved and beautiful he can't help but clinging to it - is that she is not expecting Ryuzaki to fill it. She wants, no, she _demands_ him. She seems to have accepted that comprehending her brother on this matter, 'the Kira thing', transcends human possibilities. 

_The only reason you can forgive him for killing you is that you are not dead anymore_ , Mishima has heard J say, _which is rationally impossible. And that's my point: forgiveness is impossible if not under impossible circumstances._

There is something about J, soft and sharp, all hard shield but no pointed edges, that reminds him of Nanase. It's probably a pointless similarity, there is so little that doesn't remind him of Nanase these days. Maybe it's the look in her eyes the first time they're alone. Maybe it's guilt, and there's nothing special about it, he should stop overanalysing shit _._ Maybe it's all of those things together. _Maybe it's because I killed her brother and she's still making me tea._

There are so many ways to make tea to someone, he has been learning since moving in with a family of fake Brits, or half-British at best. Slow and threatening, like Linda. Casual, as if it was an accident, like Matt. Maki would _bring_ you tea, or Chai Tea Latte, from the cafe' in town. Ryuzaki doesn't make tea spontaneously, and Mishima - _Ryou, Ryou, Ryou_ \- never feels in the position to ask for things. Neither to refuse, though. He drinks and eats and forces himself to look tired in the evening to fit in the best he can. He lies on the large couch of the East living room - the one for grown-ups or operative agents or serial killers with redeeming qualities - mostly because, in case he does fall asleep, he will not find himself alone a dark, unfamiliar bedroom when he wakes up. Also, he's gotten used to pick a side of the bed, but you don't really get to do that when you're on your own. 

Almost every night he gets far enough to dream, he is shaken awake by nightmares, heart beating all wrong in his chest. And he _always_ wakes up to Ryuzaki's arms, steady around his shoulders, holding him in place and possibly together.

« It's okay. I'm here. »

How funny, no, how _pathetic,_ that of all the articulate forms of reassurance Ryuzaki could come up with, that was exactly all he needed. 

_And isn't it marvelous, J, how many impossible things we are witnessing these days?_

He just remembers now. That's what Ryuzaki replied.

* * *

« I wonder » Ryuzaki says, once « whether the worst part is when you have all the memories back, when they’re sliding back into place and you finally see the big picture. »

« It’s not. » Mishima keeps his eyes shut, although both of them are way past even trying to rest, one unable to sleep, one unable to let the other alone « That’s not even close. »

« What is it? » Ryuzaki murmurs softly against his ear, heartbeat so calm for someone holding his own murderer. « Tell me. »

« I see the moment I wrote your name. I know what I felt, I _see_ it _,_ I just can’t... _feel_ it anymore. It’s like a dream and I am screaming, begging myself to stop, but all my old self can think of is the fucking big picture. I am not happy to do it, because you’re a person and I always believed killing is wrong. That’s it, that’s what I hate: that vague, mild sense of regret. I am killing _you_ and I don’t even know it- » Mishima feels almost dizzy at the memory, and allows himself to fall a little bit more into Ryuzaki’s embrace. « I didn’t know it wasn’t any person, that it was _you_. »

« You couldn’t possibly have known, love. Of all things, that’s not something you can’t be held accountable for. »

« Isn’t that the point? We’re all somebody’s person. Isn’t that why humans should kill each other the old dirty way without the pretense to hold a higher moral ground? »

« Yes, one of the many reasons. It just doesn’t sound like you. It’s, how shall I put it? Uncharacteristically irrational. »

« Agreed. » Mishima manages to sound even more bitter than usual. « I guess I not only make a lousy serial killer, but also the worst kind of human. Causing mass destruction and yet being hunted by petty little details. »

Ryuzaki just shakes his head.

« I can’t say I am disappointed in you for not being an excellent serial killer. »

« This isn’t funny. »

« It is, just a tiny bit. »

« You know » Mishima sighs « you’re allowed to get mad. This thing where _you_ comfort _me_ is driving me insane. »

« I _am_ mad. »

« Well, you damn sure have a funny way to show it. »

« If you believe that screaming at you will do us any good, please, feel free to share your plan. »

« It might make you feel better. »

« I think I know what makes me feel better, thank you. »

A moment passes, and Mishima seems to have dropped the topic – something he has never done _before_ , one of those new habits that make Ryuzaki’s heart clench. Perhaps it isn’t the best conversation to test out Mishima’s actual toughts, but then again, when is it going to be the right moment to talk about gods of Death and supernatural murder weapons? That wasn’t covered in any pep talk or relationship advice – and not that Ryuzaki has been raised in a normal family, he is fairly sure he was given the ‘don’t leave DNA traces on a crime scene’ talk way before the ‘safe sane and consensual’ one.

« Do you really want to know what would make me feel better? »

« Name it. » Mishima shrugs. « Name it, and it’s yours. »

« If you could stop acting as if my presence was making everything worse. As if you wished I was still dead so you didn’t even have to _try_. You could let go, spend the rest of your life obsessing over finding those notebooks, alone and unbothered in your self-hate. »

Ryuzaki’s voice is calm, almost monotone, and it takes a few moments for Mishima to catch up with the words. He stares at the other man eye-widened, only to be welcomed with a devastating smile – no sarcasm, not even a drop or resentment, only sadness and that undying affection Mishima still cannot understand. Those words, though, ring painfully clear. He moves before having decided what he wanted to do, but he moves the only direction he knows, the only place left to go, into the small circle of Ryuzaki’s arms. This time, he is the one holding as tight as he can, like he used to before killing him – or after writing his name, neither time reference them sounds bearable in his head.

« Don’t. » he hisses, face pressed into his hair, voice almost shaking with anger « Don’t ever say anything like that. Ever. »

Ryuzaki runs a thumb across his back, gently and soothing.

« Then, don’t make me feel like I have to. »

 _One more impossible thing_.

Ryou disentangles from the embrace, then stares straight into Ryuzaki’s eyes.

« Can we go to bed? I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks. »

« I am fairly sure what you have been doing cannot be considered ‘sleeping’ in any civilised society. »

He wakes up the next morning, in a real bed and next to Ryuzaki, who is reading what it looks like a very expensive vintage copy of a ‘Deadpool’ issue. He smiles. It takes him almost a minute to get his brain to work and remember they are not in his apartment back in Tokyo, that they won’t be picking up Ryuzaki’s disgustingly sweet iced latte together with his own Normal Coffee for Real Adults, and that he won’t have to ignore Nanase making her best we-will-talk-later face at him when they get to the office together.

An yet, for forty seconds, Ryou is happy.

* * *

**Late spring, 2017**

“Tell me every terrible thing you ever did,

and let me love you anyway. _”_

In their secret code, ‘happiness’ means ‘annoyance’, or the other way around, Ryou can hardly tell at this point. Flowers have their language, and so have they. As Ryou is slowly growing into a better version of himself, Ryuzaki is letting his guard off, reverting back to the annoying 3-year-old he has always been at the dawn of their relationship.

It’s wonderful.

Ryou has missed scolding him more than anything. And yet, there’s also a big assumption there, that leaves the rest of the family quite shocked: Ryou was never the responsible parent, and not just because they have no children. Linda, especially, half-expects Ryou to take over some sort of ‘Real Adult’ role, the same role she always assumed belonged to him, before all the Shinigami shit happened. To put it simply, they are all (minus J, who knows better, and Maki, who knows too much stuff which is actually useful to society to take notice of the current drama) waiting to see Ryou trying to get Ryuzaki to, let’s say, eat something healthy for a change, read in a normal position, or be less overdramatic. Not that they care, they just want to enjoy the show.

Bold of them to assume Ryou can remember to eat or sleep on his own.

(The part of Ryou’s brain telling him _Nanase would get this right_ is still loud, but loud-loud, now, not painful-loud. Ryou doesn’t want it to shut up, ever. If anything, he just wants it to stop hurting, so he can listen to it all the time and keep his friend close.)

They’re back to the basics, which is _really_ basic. Ryuzaki shoves a muffin in his face or grabs his arm and pulls him to the bedroom haflway through the night with no comment but a laconic ‘sleep, now’, because, as incredible as it sounds, this is already a level up from Ryou’s disastrous concept of self-care. You can’t exactly tell people off for eating junk food when they’re the ones making sure you eat in the first place.

The gown-up things Ryou has accomplished so far in his adult life are much deeper than being able to survive on his own. He drinks black coffee, he asks politely before petting strangers’ dogs on the street, and he can take a phone call from the bank in front of other people. Apparently, they’re not entertaining enough.

Ryuo has just been dragged to bed after almost pulling an all-nighter for the thrid time in a week (hey, crime never sleeps, literally, because they’re investigating a string of bombings in California, where it’s currently barely evening) when _he slips_.

« I love how this relationship has evolved. Remember when you wanted me to get a decent amount of sleep, in those twenty minutes when you went to get us breakfast? Those were the times. At this rate, I reckon we will take a nap once a week, when we get old. »

His own words are still echoing in the back of his mind, when he catches Ryuzaki freezing in place and staring at him. No sidewayas glances, no sneaking, just plain staring, as if Ryou has suddenly remembered the magic spell to save the world or something. And who knows, perhaps, he has.

 _‘When we get old’_.

Which is, in fact, never, but that’s semantics. This ‘when’ might never come to be in the real world, but it now exists whithin Ryou’s minds, a place much more important to them. And who cares if that’s impossible. Shinigami and Death Notes and magical powers were just as impossible, until they weren’t anymore; and if Ryuo knows that – he knows that impossible things could, theoretically, turn out to be true one day – and he has still grown to accept his own survival as a possible future, at least in his head, it means they won. It means he has made peace with the notion of being alive, and, upon impossible developments, he might consider living on, getting old, die peacifully and boringly in a coutryside cottage surrounded by dozens of cats plus one husband. _A bit colourful, but it gives the right idea._

Ryuzaki doesn’t say a word, but his expression is louder than any reply: he is glowing –there’s not other word for it – and the spark of pure happiness in his eyes has to be the most beautiful thing Ryou has ever seen.

* * *

His new family is good at many things, but they all excel at one in particular: making you feel ordinary. Insignificant, at times, or just uniteresting when they are being kind. Ryou lives for those moments, when he has just overcome his anxiety to reveal a little bit more about himself (although, one could argue, what’s more to know about someone who is also Kira? Is there anything more to a person beyond their worst crime?) and what he says sounds beautifully dull. For every single topic, Mello has a story related to the Mafia. Ryou is still failing to see the charm of organised crime, but Mello seems to have a real obsession with it. Or so Linda says, but only when Matt cannot hear her - and, when Maki is around, there are always extra bits of gossip about the infamous Paraguay Mission. Sometimes, Ryou is amazed to realise how effortless it is to remember all these dynamics, and many more.

This is the biggest trouble of all, though, with this ‘family business’: willing or not, you get sucked in. You roll your eyes when someone eats the last of your favourite snacks, you leave the coffee on knowing who will be waking up next, you pick up on all those little, insignificant details, often a bother more than a blessing, until, someday, you look back at your life and you find out this is exactly what a life should be made of: little annoying, persistent, family members, who chose your worst over someone else’s.

Ryou’s worst had seen his peak already, yet, dealing with his ‘decent enough’ is something he would not wish upon his worst enemy.

 _And why would you_ , J has scolded him, once _, would you rather have your worst enemy to take care of you when you need it?_

Ryou comes to accept J’s logic the night he almost passes out in the kitchen. He has been walking around the kitchen isle for what it feels like hours, when the usal post-nightmare pain suddenly explodes ten times harder than expected and everything goes dark in his mind. He doesn’t scream. He never does. J is there by accident: Ryou hasn’t had a nightmare of that sort in ages, and J hasn’t craved a midnight hot chocolate in just as long. She picks him up and holds him tight until he stops shaking. Then, she makes him hot chocolate _before_ asking. You should always judge people by their priorities.

« Just the usual nightmares. » he explains, as dismissive as he can « It’s been a while since I had them.»

« The usual nightmares have you passing out on the floor? »

« Yes. » he nods, and then « Please, don’t tell _him_. »

J quirks an eyebrow.

« Reasons first, decision next. »

« He had just stopped worrying about all this shit. »

« I can omit. » she offers « But I will not lie. That » she looks around the kitchen until she finds the cookies jar « plus a couple of chocolate chip cookies is my best and only offer. »

She holds up a cookie. Ryou breaks it in half.

« Not bad. » he replies, chewing on his part.

« I know, right? It’s Mello’s secret stash. »

* * *

It turns into a habit. Not the nightmares or the fear: the hot chocolate. It becomes ‘their thing’, and Ryou still cannot believe there are _things_ waiting for him to have them, let alone things he can can share with someone else. And yet, there is one time Mello enquires about the amount of chocolate chips cookies being eaten in the house, usually consumed with no witnesses, and J cuts him off by saying _sorry Mello, that’s just our thing_ and grins at Ryou.

Evetually, they get caught, in a moment in time when Ryou needs to check his calendar to remember the last nightmare, because it has been too long, and too many things have happened ever since, all much more interesting and valuable to use up space in his memory.

Ryuzaki walks into the two of them laughing over a cat meme: it is framed as a newspaper article and it reads ‘kitten thinks of nothing but murder all day’. The cat is a minusculous tabby kitten with blue eyes, and, from its adorable face, you can tell it is most certainly thinking of murder. Ryou is sitting on the verge of the kitchen counter, both hands pressend on the marble to keep his balance, while his legs swing a little as he laughs. He is wearing baggy cotton pants now converted into pajama pants and a wrinkled tshirt that has survived too many washing cycles to have a definite colour anymore – his new favourite outfit, and, secretly, Ryuzaki’s favourite, too. He looks scruffy and perpetualy half-asleep, irradiating peace. J is bending forward to show Ryou her smartphone, elbows on the counter. She is holding a teaspoon and dripping hot chocolate pretty much everywhere.

« _Guilty_. » Ryuzaki points a finger at them.

« Guilty unless we share our cookies? » J tries.

Ryuzaki walks in front of Ryou and places his hands on the counter, each one on top of Ryou’s.

« Your hair is a mess. » he declares.

« Since when do you care about my hairstyle? »

« The state of your hair is among my highest concerns. »

Ryou wrinkles his nose and narrows his eyes. Ryuzaki says nothing, but kisses the top of said nose and smiles, knowingly. They have just entered a bizarre staring contest, when J clears her troat to catch their attention.

« You know what. I see where this is going. » she points an accusatory teaspoon at them. « I _eat_ on that counter. I _bake_ on that counter. I did my homeworks when I was a kid _on that counter_. This is not happening on my watch. »

The nightmares seem gone forever. Ryou likes to pretend J’s hot chocolate is keeping them away. There’s no science behind it, he is well aware. He starts to wonder, though, considering all he has been witnessing in his life, what difference does it make. _Were you saved because you believed or do you believe because you were saved?_ Who cares. He didn’t even know he could still be saved in the first place.

* * *

**Fall, 2021**

“Think they'll make it?”

“I don't know”

“You let them go.”

“I let them try.”

The story of Alexey Ivanov will go down in history as ‘the one where even Mello had some shame’, also a coincidence beyond reason.

When you live in a house where the average number of spoken languages per person is something around _five_ , you simply go with the flow. Not that Ryou hasn’t picked up at least a few key-words that are regularly used in the family, but most of the time he sort of _perceives_ the topic of conversation.

(Fun fact: a series of words that Ryou had learned real fast - such as ‘mei-mei’ - were, in fact, from the Anglo-Mandarin slang of a sci-fi cult tv called _Firefly._ Mello was outraged he had never heard of it. Ryou was outraged they had all let him go out and use some fictional slang in the real world for months. As much as Maki assured him the series was very accurate in terms of language, Ryou still prays he had not accidentally offended anyone’s ancestors.)

Therefore, there is nothing strange about Mello throwing Russian words every now and then, for the sake of drama, especially when he is trying to sell yet another case featuring the case tags ‘mafia’ and ‘Moscow’ to an exasperated Linda. There are just so many times you can tell your brother that _we can’t pick cases based on the quality of the local vodka_ , _Mello_.

This is why it takes a while for Ryou to catch up on the words.

« Did you say ‘Alexey Ivanov’? Like this? » Ryou is scribbling it down in the corner of his notebook.

« ‘Alexey Ivanov’, yes. » Mello repeats, rolling his eyes, the name sounding quite different to Ryou’s ears with a correct Russian pronounciation. « Friend of yours? Hope not, he’s dead. Been dead for a while, I think it happened in- »

Mello looks like he’s been shot. He curses very obviously, although he still curses in his native tongue.

« Shit, ‘Alexey Ivanov’ like _that_ doctor. ‘Guy had a diary that got lost. So, this other guy I’m after, he likes _Supernatural_ a lot- »

« Like, he believes in Shinigami and all that? »

« No » Mello laughs « He literally likes _Supernatural_ , the tv show, and he collects paranormal-related items. He’s into roleplaying- » he hesistates, then pats Ryou on the head « You know what? I like you too much to tell you about this. Let’s just say, I got my hands on a box of random stuff that might be related to the case. Ivanov’s secret journal is the next on my go-through list. »

« Holy shit. This is crazy. »

« What my Crime Lord Guy does in the bedroom at his age is crazy; this is a lucky coincidence. But I get you’re excited. I bet the wildest thing you and Ryuzaki are up to in bed is crosswords. Never heard a single peep coming from there. »

They both jump when Mello gets a text – from Ryuzaki, who’s not even supposed to be home.

 _Don’t make this a challege, bro_.

* * *

The language barrier means it is up to either Mello or Linda to read the diary, which means it is up to Linda, period. There is nothing unusual for the Wammy’s in gathering around Linda, part squeezed on the big sofa and part sprawled on the floor, and listen to a story. A story about murder and gods of Death, granted, but a story nonetheless.

« He was a man of science. » Linda reads « He wanted to understand how Shingami work...you know, from the inside. »

« A lesson on Shinigami’s biology. How fascinating. » Mello rolls his eyes.

Ryou gets closer to Linda and, as he begins to skim through the pages himself, he finds his own chin resting on Linda’s shoulder. It can’t be helped. Linda has entered her ‘big sister mode’ and no one can resist her. She adjusts her position to be more comfortable and her tone gets softer with each word.

« He was especially fascinated by the idea of the soul being affected and the concept of 'Mu'. After all, it would be the first actual proof we have a soul to begin with, right? But he didn’t really like the idea – _‘too mystical’_ , he writes. »

« Shit is getting deep. »

« Shut up and listen, Mello! » J throws a pillow at him.

« Let’s see... » Linda flips through the pages – that, for future reference, look all _identical_ to Ryou, damn Cyrillic – until her eyes spark with interest « He asked a Shinigami about it. If he could, uhm, describe what a soul look like and how you come to lose it. He was very specific with his questions. »

« Man of science. » Maki grins and gives Linda a thumb up.

« _The Shinigami uses words that cannot be pronounced, not to mention written, with human sounds. I asked them to give a description using the human words closer to the original meaning._ Oh, here we go! Cool stuff alert, guys. _Shinigami only have three emotions. The first, most common one is a void, or lack of feelings. I explained the concept of numbness and they liked it. They chose to describe the first emotion as ‘numb heart’, in human words. That’s how Shinigami feel most of the time._ »

« I take it back. » Mello says excitedly « This is creepy and awesome. I need a t-shirt. »

Matt smacks the back of his head.

« _The second feeling is a craving. They made a gesture with that and decided to name the feeling ‘me-wants’. This is not human desire: there is no satisfaction, because they do not have any feeling of that sort. The craving comes, the craving goes. When a Shinigami longs for something, they take it and keep taking it until the craving ends. They only learned about what ‘satisfaction’ is by looking at humans._ He adds something about the falling in love business, too. They don’t know much about it, because apparently it is a very unusual condition, but it makes them do crazy things. »

Ryou dares to search for Ryuzaki’s eyes. He seems lost in thought for a moment, and yet, when his gaze meets Ryou’s, he smiles. Linda doesn’t miss the movement and decides to carry on.

« _The third feeling, the one I am truly interested in, doesn’t even resemble anything human. My new friend explained it to me as ‘the aknowledgement of your own divine nature’. He has no words to elaborate on that. He claims this is what they feel like when performing actions they are supposed to, the things that make them gods of Death. Interestingly, this is what it feels like to use a Death Note. They do not pay much attention to it, and yet, over the years, they noticed something useful to my research: humans can experience it, too, when using a Death Note the first time. Sometimes, it takes a few tries. We agreed, upon further discussion, that this is probably relate to the consequent loss of one’s soul. My friend claims human souls are sturdy, but they have little flexibility to them; Shinigami’s emotions might be scarce in number, but they are also quite intense. Souls are not equipped to experience such an overwhelming, non-human sensation. I believe when a Death Note’s owner exercise the power of a god, the emotional stress on their soul becomes to much and, somehow, it causes the soul to detach itself from the body. Without a soul, you cannot be judged to enter either Heaven or Hell._ »

The room falls silent as Linda reaches the end of the entry.

« _My last question was whether, in their opinion, a human being could retain their soul even after using the Death Note. I must say I had not anticipated my friend’s reaction. They said it is possible, in theory, however, we shall hope not. A human soul forced to coexist with the use of a Death Note would bring a horrendous future for its bearer._ _Perpetual nightmares, they suspect, and the sort of pain you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy. Assuming they can survive the physical pain, their mind will twist and writhe until their dying breath. As a scientist, I must say this only gives more credit to the human body and its ability to adapt. When faced with such a tremendous power, it expels the one part that makes you more vulnerable, in order to guarantee one’s survival. Human instinct is to carry on living, before anything else._ »

Slowly, as if they are waking up from a dream, each one in their own unique way, they steal a glance of Ryou’s expression. He is frowning, but so far nothing more than that.

« Well. » Matt’s voice, such an unusual sound, scares the shit out of everyone « Aren’t you a special snowflake, Ryou? »

« It’s a freaking snow storm in this room. » Linda chuckles and puts one arm around Ryou’s shoulder.

They are quick to change the subject without giving Mello the time to realise this would be an excellent occasion to start singing ‘Let it go’.

* * *

Later, with Ryuzaki curled up around him, Ryou allows himself to let out a small sigh.

« _Hey_. » Ryuzaki nuzzles the back of his neck.

« _Hey_. »

« I have so many questions about Mello’s line of work. »

« Oh, now you do. » Ryou snorts « So we’re just pretending the things with the trees in Italy never happened? »

« I remember us _agreeing_ it never happened. »

« Fair point. We have enough nightmares on our own. »

« Do we? Do we, still? »

He knows what Ryuzaki is thinking: _I like it when you use the plural._ Ryou can feel him smiling against his skin. _I like ‘us’._

« Sometimes. » he offers, because it’s the truth and it’s also dismissive enough to make Ryuzaki understand it truly isn’t a big deal anymore.

« Do you believe anything of what the doctor wrote? »

« I don’t know, but... I am not sure I want to say it out loud. »

« Just say it anyway. And if it sounds wrong and you change your mind, we can pretend it never happened. » Ryuzaki whispers, unyelding in his faith they could still survive anything, together.

« I want to believe it. I want to believe there’s proof of it, when I say I am sorry. That I hated every minute of it. »

« I quite like the sound of it. »

« Yeah. Me, too. »

« So. We believe, then? »

Ryou closes his eyes. He takes both of Ryuzaki’s hands in his and pressed them to his own heart.

« Yes. We believe. »

* * *

When it dawns to him that there won’t be enough time to tick all the boxes in his revenge list, Ryou is surprised: he has been preparing to manage the anger, he _hates_ failure with passion, and yet, it never comes.

« I have a theory. » Maki grins at him, and she is still the only family member who can accomplish that without being terrifying.

« Of course you do. That’s in your job description. Gotta make some stuff explode to prove this theory? » Ryou teases her with a mouthful of pad thai.

Maki looks pensive. The two of them are spending some quality family time in the kitchen, which involves takeaway and trading confessions as per usual, because Maki is a tornado in the shape of a teddy bear: you cannot fight her and then again, why would you? She always look so soft and comforting Ryou sometimes actively _video-calls her_ (still frown upon in most civilized pajama-based societies) just to see her reassuring smile.

« Could be a little mind-blowing, actually. It’s pretty cool stuff. » she finally declares, tapping both her temples with her indexes and mimicking a ‘boom’ sound with her mouth.

« Shoot me. »

« Maybe you did try your best and there is nothing to be angry about. »

Definitely not what Ryou expected.

« Well. » if he cannot argue with that concept altogether, he can still try and find a flaw to undermine it a tiny bit, at least « That’s fair. But I still hate failing. »

« Is it failing, though? »

« I said I was going to find all the notes. So far, we have four. And I am not even remotely close to killing Ryuk. »

« Yes, but » Maki stares at the last of her king prawns and, after careful consideration, she places it aside to save it for last « what if you set a goal that cannot be accomplished? You know, like, when you write something on the Death Note that it is not physically doable and it does the next best thing. »

It is perhaps the first time Maki has mentioned the Death Note. She never works on any of the leads to find the Notes or anything Kira-related, to the point Ryou has often wondered how much she knew. It had made a certain impression, to him, the idea someone could know about the existance of the Death Notes and still make the conscious decision of not getting involved. Especially someone who crossed paths with L. When they spoke about it, Maki told him something that haunted him from days: ‘ _I just think there is more to L than the Kira case’_. After all, she was saving lives and fighting crime like the rest of them, she had simply decided not to obsess over one specific case. Not to downplay the destructive potential of the Notes, of course, Maki would never do that. The thing is, Ryou isn’t always sure that it is the reason he is so determined to find the notes. Or, to better phrase it, he is sure that it isn’t always the reason. He clinges to this narrative of the self-sacrificing heroes and the promise to honour the lives of those they lost, and what’s the difference in what Maki’s doing? She’s honoring L just the same.

« Would you say the Death Note failed? »

« Well, not really. It’s in the rules, there are things it cannot do. I mean, it’s still pretty efficient if you ask me. »

« You are so understanding of a deadly magical tool. »

« Fine, I get it. If I can cut some slack to a cursed object, I should just take a chill pill before I give myself a heart attack. »

« You can get as salty as you want, the facts still stand: you’re not even halfway through your mission and yet, you do not feel like a failure. Your words, not mine. »

« It’s weird. » Ryou sighs, defeated « It’s almost like I feel more at peace now than when I thought I had everything under control. Is that normal? »

« What? You mean learning from your mistakes, making up for your bad decisions, and forgiving youself? Absolutely not. It’s batshit crazy, if you ask me. »

Then, she proceeds to eat the king prawn, an unexpected development since she hasn’t finished the rest of her food yet.

« Don’t you always save that for last? »

« Meh. » she shrugs « I do, most of the time. But sometimes I think it’s just stupid to deprive myself of my favourite food and eat it when it’s basically cold. »

Ryou narrows his eyes.

« This is not part of the lecture anymore, is it? »

« It’s just a prawn, Ryou-kun. Give it a break. »

‘ _I think there’s more to him than how he died or his last big case. To me, that wasn’t even the last. Do you know what are the last things he actually did? He recorded a message in my teddy bear. I’ll play it for you sometimes, if you like._ _Then, he gave Near a name. But this is probably wrong, too. I bet he went to buy some candy after that.’_

* * *

It’s just the three of them, the usual suspects, and they are lying on the big carpet in the living room - the one for cuddle piles or sleep-deprived freelance detectives or annoying siblings with redeeming qualities – when J speaks up about the time issue.

« If either of you is going to say I have to give up on the search and move on with my life, I swear- »

« Of course! » Ryuzaki says, mocking a serious tone « You have to get out of here and build yourself a life filled with happiness and puppies. But above all- »

« Don’t! Don’t say it! » she almost rolls over on the floor, laughing.

« I want you to find a good man, J. »

« Nooo. » she screams, dramatically. « _Anything_ but a good man! »

« And paint a fence. Because, according to the Americans, that’s when shit gets real. » Ryou adds.

« Does Stephen has a fence? We should ask him. »

« He has Near already, what would he do with a fence? »

« I am not sure they have the same purpose, J. »

« They both scare strangers off and keep you busy on weekends. » she shrugs and looks at Ryou for support. « What? »

« I think we deserved better. » Ryou sighs dramatically, and, for the first time in years, it does sound like a joke.

* * *

How did that neverending conversation end? Ryou has almost forgotten about it.

It has been _so long_ , years, at this point. Things are so different, and yet, they have been different for _so long_ – he loves this expression, he’ll never get tired of using it – that most of the time it feels like things never changed. He vaguely remembers being at that point in his life when he couldn’t imagine his next steps. His next emotion, his next train of thoughts. Everything seemed frozen in time, back then, as if he was meant to live forever in that one day when he had seen his life falling into pieces, and then remembered he was the one to blame for the damage. Compared to that, his current past is brand new, shiny, almost, filled with colourful chemical explosions curtesy of Maki, or decorated with a stripey pattern, and painful, too, but usually only because you stepped on a misplaced Optimus Prime on the floor. It smells of chocolate and has a terrifying taste of sugary coffee.

Linda made a drawing, not long ago. It is a vignette of a drug cartel from their last investigation. It is a inside joke of the worst kind, and not a soul who lives outside the house can even begin to understand it, let alone find it funny. This is probably why it was stuck to the fridge, like the work of a proud child, so only the people who can get it are allowed to see. Ryou cannot take a single step in that room without having a fit of giggles and that is _belonging_ at its finest.

 _‘I think L would be so proud of you, Ryuzaki.’_ Yes, that was it, what J said. _‘He only caught Kira, but you_ saved _him_.’ That was somewhere near the end, he thinks.

* * *

**December 25th, 2024**

“Sleep now, here among your choices.

Gone who was right or wrong, who was weak or strong.”

They die in Paris.

It's so easy, definitely easier than living, or so Ryou thinks. It's a gunshot, in the end, and it's Ryuzaki's fault of course. The bullet runs through Ryuzaki's body, straight through his heart, and he looks up - or at least he tries to - eyes ever so blue, wide open in surprise. There is also a hint of disappointment there. He probably isn't happy to go down like this, being wrong about the killer they were chasing, especially when Ryou has been right all along. 

It suits them. 

Ryou would be the first to say it's silly, if not plain stupid, but for a brief crazy moment, as he is watching Ryuzaki's body flopping down and hitting the concrete ground, he thinks the deal is superfluous; that his heart would stop anyway from seeing Ryuzaki die. It is also incorrect, though, because Ryuzaki has died before, not exactly in front of him, but close enough, and Ryou was very much alive. Maybe it did have something to do with the name. Maybe he wasn't the same person.

« _Ryou_. » Ryuzaki calls him.

In spite of all the higher powers involved, that's really what pulls him to the other side. Nothing supernatural, just Ryuzaki's voice calling him, asking Ryou to follow him into the unknown one last time, and Ryou's soul obliges.

When he opens his eyes again, he half-expects to meet Ryuk's mocking grin. He doesn't. There's no white light either; instead, a warmth, pleasant and familiar. For some reason, it reminds him of Soichiro Yagami. He blinks a few times, and focuses on a person standing in front of him: they're wearing a slightly oversize black jumper – Ryou has fallen asleep with his face pressed into that jumper too many times to forget it. Ryuzaki takes a hand out of his pocket and holds it out, the corners of his mouth turning into a soft smile as Ryou reaches for it without hesitating.

And this is how it ends.

**Author's Note:**

> *Wow, it took me just about 3 years to put this thing together. Also, part I is in past tense because it felt...past? And the rest doesn't. Amen.
> 
> *Quotes  
>  **December 25th, 2016:** “Bat out of Hell” from Bat out of Hell: The Musical  
>  **Winter, 2017:** Sara Manguso  
>  **Late spring, 2017:** Coffee and Cigarettes by Sade Andria Zabala,  
>  **Fall, 2021:** “Wait for me (Reprise)” from Hadestown  
>  **December 25th, 2024:** “Requiem” from Death Note The Musical
> 
> *Every single tiny mention of Japanese food is a reference to the amazing ten days I spent in Tokyo. I have never been more grateful for food, seriously. 
> 
> * ‘I couldn’t save Light’ is my favourite quote in the entire Death Note universe, and it’s spoken by L in the movies when he says goodbye to Soichiro (one of my favourite moments EVER). 
> 
> * All dates/ages based on the very few time references I have - the movie takes place 10 years after the previous one, Ryuzaki dies on the 25th of December 2016, and Mishima writes his name pretty much the moment they meet, so 23 days before the end of the movie.  
> Numbers & shits & giggles nobody asked for: the average life expectancy is something around 70s (rounded down), take another 10 because of fandomic bad luck, we’re down to 60. Apparently, the main characters of the movie do not have an official age, but they’re about “25-30ish”. Let’s take 28 because why not, that means 32 years to go for Mishima before the movie starts. 16 years go to Ryuk in exchange for the Eyes. Mishima and Ryuzaki are left with 16 to split, so they live together for 8 years. Sounds lush, if you ask me.


End file.
